


You Keep Shaking Me

by bloodsugar



Series: Am I Wrong [4]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Developing Relationship, Feelings, M/M, Nonverbal Communication, Post-Betrayal, Undecided Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 12:15:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2547125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodsugar/pseuds/bloodsugar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Robert doesn’t know why it is but Marco starts responding better to Robert’s questions and prompts. He tells the older man about his day, and Robert is more than happy to listen. The hurt still seems to be there, but it also appears to be lessened by Robert’s presence. The way Marco is looking at him is warmer and more open by the second and Robert thinks he gets it - it’s harder for Marco to be angry at him for not being there when Robert is actually</i> there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Keep Shaking Me

 

 

_**[Y](http://footiez.tumblr.com/tagged/lewaneus)** ou keep shaking me, I can’t control myself with you  
I don’t wanna cry anymore _

_ Like a **[r](http://infotaip.blogspot.com/2011/08/kahi-rollercoaster-english-translation.html)** ollercoaster   
But don’t know why it feels so good _

 

 

 

 

The following day Robert wastes no time. Marco has given him the thumbs up, more or less, and not literally, but after their dinner from the previous night Robert can acknowledge that now is the time to venture further into winning Marco back. He starts by texting the blond around eight in the morning when he first wakes up. _‘Good morning.’_   he writes simply, then decorates the message with a smiling emoticon whose eyes look like arrows pointing upwards. It’s cute, in fact it reminds Robert of certain goal celebrations when Marco would be giddy with the success, running to Robert for a big hug. 

 

It is tempting to sink back into memories of those times, but Robert resists the urge and rolls out of bed instead, going straight for a hot shower. Most mornings he’d take a cold one, but this time he is wide awake without the added shock of the water. He wastes no time in the bathroom, drying himself up and then jumping into some clean dry clothes - a pair of black jeans and a t-shirt - simple and comfortable but presentable enough. He plans on swinging by Marco’s place, but this time he intends to warn the blond first instead of appear over there like he’s been invited, when that’s not the case,  yet. 

 

When he takes his phone again, there is a good _‘Morning’_ message from Marco waiting for him. A week ago Robert would have viewed this single word as a sign that the blond simply can’t be bothered giving him a proper reply, but today Robert feels optimistic. In the back of his mind, he imagines Marco warm and cuddly with sleep, his soft hair a mess and his eyes cracked half way open as he makes himself breakfast. Robert would teleport back to Marco’s kitchen if he could, and this is really why no one should allow him to do things. 

 

_‘Hang out today?’_ he texts back, hoping it sounds friendly but open enough. The last thing Robert wants is to irritate Marco and prompt him into giving the older man a lecture about how one dinner doesn’t make everything between them alright. But the previous night they spoke about Robert’s intention to stay for a full week, so Marco knows Robert is at his disposal. 

 

Robert is pretty much out the door, his hope clearly having made him too presumptuous when he receives Marco’s next text. _‘Actually, I can’t during the day. BVB practice.’_ A part of Robert wants to invite himself to that, but he knows way better. He can’t go there, face the people he left behind. It feels silly that he even has to put it this way, but in the end he did abandon them - or at least, that is the way they would see it. So he has to make due with the opportunity he has to explore other places in the city he loves, or maybe meet with a friend who is less upset about his transfer to Bayern. 

 

Robert ends up doing none of those things and spends the majority of the day in his hotel room, only going down to the hotel gym for a workout and the gift shop to browse items he has no interest in buying. Souveniers, tourist stuff - he has lived in this city, he doesn’t need any of this to make him feel like some sort of a stranger to it. It’s still his home, even if some parts of his home have rejected him like a bad organ transplant. 

 

He texts Marco again in the late afternoon, when he knows the blond will have finished his training session already. _‘Dinner? At my hotel? I’ll drive by and pick you up.’_ Robert offers helpfully, wanting to be available and polite, but there is another side to this. A part of him likes giving Marco things, driving Marco places. If the boy would let him, Robert would pay for dinner and buy him a fucking yacht. Of course, he doubts Marco would let any of this happen, but a man can dream. Doubt is just starting to creep back in when Marco’s reply arrives. _‘I will drive myself there around seven if that is fine with you.’_ The text is diplomatic, but it sounds pretty final. Robert doesn’t really mind bossy Marco, so who is he to protest. _‘Excellent.’_ he texts back and lies back on his bed for a little power nap, snoozing with his lips curled into a smile. 

 

 

Marco texts him again, at five to seven, that he is parking in the hotel garage and heading for the lobby. Robert admires his punctuality and checks himself into the mirror for the last time before heading down to meet him. He’s wearing his favorite suit, pleased in his ability to think ahead for bringing it. He doesn’t know how Marco views this second dinner, but as far as Robert is concerned it is a pretty big opportunity to make nice between them. As nice as possible, that is. Robert doesn’t want to be greedy, he thinks in the elevator, but he wants Marco to have accepted him back fully by the time he has to leave. Five more days. Maybe it is a little greedy. Robert can’t bring himself to feel guilty for it. 

 

In the center of the lobby, Marco is standing looking all shiny and pretty, and Robert doesn’t know if it was the worry, or the rejection, or all the drama, but somehow in the last few months he’d lost the ability to appreciate Marco strictly for his physical appeal. Robert doesn’t have this problem right now. He looks Marco up and down as he approaches him, almost shamelessly so but subtle enough not to catch the attention of any other hotel guests or the hotel staff. 

 

Marco is wearing some pretty tight, black jeans, a dark jacket, and a blue shirt underneath it - which Robert doesn’t miss compliments the blond’s eye color perfectly. Marco’s hair is styled like it would be before he is about to be shown on camera, and he smells really nice when Robert reaches him and draws him into a loose hug. He leaves enough space between them to give the message across that he won’t overstep any boundaries, but his arm feels just right around Marco’s waist and Robert lets it linger there as he motions toward the hotel restaurant. 

 

’’Hungry?’’ Robert asks quietly, leaning toward Marco’s side as he does. Next to him, following his lead, Marco sighs, even quieter, and nods. Robert swallows his next words, hoping to see a more talkative side of Marco by the end of the evening.

 

 

 

Robert doesn’t know if it is the delicious meals, or the dimmed lights, or even the alcohol they both order - perhaps it is a combination of all of the above - but as dinner progresses, Marco’s tongue is untied and he starts responding better to Robert’s questions and prompts. He tells the older man about his day, including the practice with BVB, and Robert is more than happy to listen to him. The hurt still seems to be there, but it also appears to be lessened by Robert’s presence. The way Marco is looking at him is warmer and more open by the second and Robert thinks he gets it - it’s harder for Marco to be angry at him for not being there when Robert is actually _there_. 

 

For the remainder of their dinner it does actually feel like things settle back into what the older man remembers to be their ‘normal’. He reaches for Marco’s hand over the table, grazing the soft skin with his fingers briefly, and meeting Marco’s curious, surprised look head on. There is a moment of silence then, but soon enough the blond’s lips curl again in that lovely subtle way Robert always loved. It’s not shy per say, but there is coyness there, and a sensation that Marco is flustered. It is perfect, right there, in this moment, as Robert dares to believe they have gotten over a hurdle and the worst is behind them. 

 

He doesn’t expect Marco to let him take the check, or to follow him to the elevator, or to come all the way up to his room, and yet Marco does all of these things. Robert doesn’t thank his lucky stars, and instead gets inwardly hung up on this being a rushed decision on the blond’s part. In front of his hotel room, he goes to tell Marco they can meet again tomorrow, maybe play some FIFA or go for a run together or something. He gets as far as ’’You know, tomor-’’ when Marco first kisses him - rushed and intent, no room left for doubts and negotiations. Robert gets lost in it, as he is blindly pushed into opening the door, their bodies stumbling inside, somehow still glued at the lips. 

 

Marco’s hands are on the back of Robert’s neck and head, cupping firmly. The message is clear enough: neither of them is going anywhere right now, let alone waiting for tomorrow. Robert barely has half a mind to wonder about why Marco wants this, why right now, but it’s probably for many of the same reasons Robert wants it. He misses it. 

 

It’s the second time they do this, and the second time they’re doing it in a hotel room in Dortmund, and somehow it is different. 

 

Marco takes charge, even more so than the last time, if Robert remembers correctly, and he remembers _every_ little detail. This time Robert is the one being pushed down on the bed, with Marco following suit, crawling up over him, confident and determined, an expression of concentration set on his face. Robert wishes he could read Marco’s mind, find out what’s going through his pretty blond head, what’s got Marco’s deep hazel eyes to look even deeper. At the same time, perhaps Robert isn’t ready for the answer to these questions. 

 

So he lies back and lets himself marvel in the sight of Marco above him, shedding his clothes like they offend him, baring his soft pale skin to Robert’s hungry gaze. It has been too long since they did this, and they should have been doing it every week since that first time. They should have lost count of how many times they’ve fucked already. They should be so familiar with each other’s bodies, each should have a clear picture of how to make the other shudder and lose control. Thankfully, Robert knows their last experience showed well enough - they’re sexually compatible and Marco is a natural at making Robert feel like sex with no other can compare. 

 

Before Robert knows it, Marco is naked above him and reaching for Robert’s clothes, his nimble fingers swift in unbuttoning and unzipping the older’s pants. Robert arches up helpfully, his own hands straining from the effort not to touch Marco all over. He isn’t even sure he’s allowed to, everything feels like it’s in the blond’s hands. Eventually, after Robert’s suit jacket and pants have been thrown mercilessly aside, the urge proves too strong to resist. He slides his hands up Marco’s thighs, and around his waist, settling there, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. 

 

Marco grunts, low and soft and so fucking sweet. Robert wants to touch him all over, map every inch of his skin with his hands and with his tongue and then to cover Marco with a blanket, show him they only have to be apart when they want to. Instead, he continues petting Marco’s skin, reveling in the quiet sounds the blond rewards him. With one last shift on the bed, the last of Robert’s clothing is gone too, and no time is wasted before Marco reaches for Robert’s hand and guides it to his mouth.

 

Robert watches Marco take his fingers between his lips, feels Marco’s tongue around the knuckles, between them, getting Robert’s fingers wet and slippery and it feels like a dream. Then Robert is snapping out of it, his dick hard as a rock and so hot where it strains against Marco’s inner thigh. He opens his mouth to tell the blond how damn perfect he looks sucking on Robert’s fingers, but only a weak groan leaves his lips, and Robert gives up. Maybe talking isn’t right for tonight. 

 

He rubs the pads of his fingers against Marco’s tongue, and they both shiver, so damn ready for it in no way, but wanting it, badly. Robert’s other hand finds Marco’s ass and kneads at one cheek, spreading the blond open, needing so much to just sway and adjust his hips until he can enter the boy with one perfect smooth thrust. First though his fingers are let go, and Marco guides Robert’s hand back to his entrance, and from here on Robert knows very well what to do. He cants his hips upward, causing Marco to spread his legs and shift in his lap, and he slips two fingers in almost easily. The view is perfect from where Robert’s lying, and Marco’s weight feels just right on top of him.

 

The preparation doesn’t take long, and how could it when Marco pushes back eagerly onto Robert’s fingers, not uttering a word but his body language saying so much at the same time. He’s looking down at Robert with so much intensity in his gaze Robert wants to write a damn song about it and he is neither a poet nor a musician. He spreads Marco wider, adding a third finger, wanting to make the blond feel good, to make him happy, at least in this very simple physical way. 

 

Marco lets him know he is ready with a twist of his hips, letting Robert’s fingers slip out, and immediately reaching for Robert’s dick, his fingers wrapping around the length firmly. Marco tugs at his cock and it throbs in his hand, a perfect mirror image to how Robert’s heart is thumping in his chest at the mere knowledge that he is finally, _finally_ about to be inside Marco again. He doesn’t have the opportunity to voice this thought either, as Marco leans forth and cants his hips just right, guiding Robert’s dick inside himself, and God, that’s the perfect metaphor for Marco letting Robert in. 

 

They moan simultaneously as Marco takes Robert’s whole length in, sitting all the way down into Robert’s lap and swaying back and forth just a little, just enough for them both to feel every little movement. There is a moment in which everything stills then, and it is less about physical adjustment than it is about awareness of this moment - that this, this is happening. Robert takes his eyeful of Marco, his gaze traveling all over Marco’s form. His hands follow suit to caress and stroke the skin of Marco’s thighs, his hips, his back, his chest - everywhere Robert can reach and beyond, where he can’t physically do so.

 

Marco is looking down on him too, looking for the first time like he is about to say something, say a lot, but somehow he doesn’t, instead starting up a pace straight away. It’s urgent and needy, and perfect in its own right, with Marco’s hips moving back and forth, back and forth, and repeat until they’re both panting with it, Marco’s heavy breathing taking on an edge of a whine. Robert loves that sound, he remembers it from the last time they did this, and he wants to hear it again, loud and  vivid.

 

He thrusts up a little, just enough to urge Marco on, to meet his movements with ones of his own. Marco responds beautifully, his hands finding Robert’s shoulders and settling there, finding his purchase as he starts to really ride Robert with intent. Their skin is more sliding than slapping together, and the physical proximity and contact alone gives Robert a full body shiver. Marco is soft and warm against him, but also fit and muscular. His weight pushes Robert down into the mattress as he grinds and bounces in Robert’s lap, and the older’s dick throbs inside him in direct response to every move. 

 

’’Ro-bert..uh!’’ Marco gasps and grunts out his name at the particularly deeper thrusts and Robert thinks, going a little mad with the pleasure of it, he wouldn’t mind if he heard nothing else but this for the rest of his life. His fingers sink into the skin Marco’s hips, deep enough to make the blond feel Robert, to feel his need. From Marco’s response, bracing himself on Robert’s shoulders and snapping his hips up and down faster, and harder, the need seems to be mutual. Robert arches up into it, being ridden with such abandon for perhaps the first time in his life and getting lost in it. He wants to watch Marco do this, fuck himself on Robert’s cock, forever; but also wants to close his eyes and revel in the feeling of it. Marco feels so hot, so tight, somehow even better than he did last time. 

 

Robert groans his appreciation, squeezing Marco’s hips, pushing himself up and in deeper to meet the blond’s movements, and it’s too much but not enough. Marco’s moaning steady now, breathy little whines escaping his beautiful lips with each movement. He loves it, Robert thinks heatedly, Marco loves his cock. It makes him stiffen under the boy’s weight, makes him want to turn them over, put Marco on his back and give him his cock over and over and over; make him gasp and cry for it. 

 

But he doesn’t. This is perfect, mind blowing as it is, as Marco starts to roll his hips - first in circles, then back and forth, grinding down, Robert’s entire cock sunk and shifting inside of him. Robert’s the one gasping at it, his hands sliding back to Marco’s ass to pull and hold him close, limiting the boy’s movements some in his desperation. Marco doesn't seem to mind, instead he chokes on a needy moan and claws at Robert’s chest, the sharp sensation burning Robert’s skin in a way he loves for the first time. If he’s left with a mark, it will be one he’ll bear proudly. 

 

This thought alone makes his orgasm approach all the sooner, as Robert reaches for Marco’s neck and pulls him down for a kiss. Their lips collide, and it’s messy and wet, the hottest kiss Robert can remember having in years. Marco tastes of wine and spices and himself, the most delicious of combinations Robert can suddenly name. His sensory perception is in overdrive, and yet he doesn't want relief from it, not yet, not until he has had all of Marco for himself. All of him. He kisses Marco deep and intense, fighting for dominance which they take turns winning. Eventually Robert is reaching every little corner of Marco’s mouth, licking into every inch, dancing over the roof until Marco whines against his lips, tangling their tongues together. 

 

Robert can’t get enough of it, of Marco’s taste, of the feel of him kissing Robert like he’s thirsty for him. They only break apart when the need for air becomes unbearable and Marco resumes his wild  movements, bouncing in Robert’s lap, almost uncoordinated with his upcoming orgasm. Robert can sense it because the blond’s channel is flexing around him, Marco’s legs tightening up and releasing sporadically on either side of Robert’s hips. To help Marco along, he guides Marco’s thrusts with his hands on the younger’s waist, spreading his legs to find their balance. Robert is barely thinking straight himself, putting off his orgasm, so eager to have Marco cum. 

 

’’Yeah,’’ he means to soothe, but it sounds so urgent instead, the first word he has said since they entered the hotel room. ’’You’re so fucking beautiful.’’ He meant to ask Marco to cum but this comes out instead, the thing he has been thinking about all night. Marco chokes on a moan at this, shaking his head like he’s about to lose it, and Robert squeezes Marco’s waist gently as the blond’s wild bouncing thrusts push him down into the bed. ’’So fucking beautiful, fuck…I-uh..’’ 

 

Suddenly Robert has so much to say - about how everyone at the restaurant couldn’t look away from Marco at dinner; how even their team mates clearly wanted a piece of Marco, more than a piece even; how Robert wants all the pieces Marco would give him, and all that Marco has to give. He reaches for Marco’s face, cupping his jawline, eyeing the blond’s neck hungrily. What would happen if he left a mark there. A large, red - no, purple, hickey for everyone to see. A hickey no girl would ever give Marco, and no man would attempt to replicate. Robert throbs and leaks, feeling his orgasm approaching fast. He trails his fingers shakily over Marco’s lips, then his cheek, his jaw. Marco’s hooded, heated gaze meets his and Robert starts thrusting up carelessly. 

 

’’I’ll come visit you, yeah?’’ He manages to pant the words out, swelling with the pleasure and getting reckless with it. He watches Marco stiffen, feels him clench around Robert even tighter. The blond’s beautiful lips part, but no words come out. His eyes are wide and vulnerable as they hold Robert’s gaze, searching. ’’As often as you want me uh, to.’’ Robert adds, still thrusting along with Marco’s movements, joining into perfect rhythmic pace together. ’’Even daily if you need me, yeah?’’ Marco whimpers, staring at him mutely still, driving him closer to the edge. ’’ _Ja?_ ’’ Robert presses, and Marco goes completely stiff and still for a moment, then slams down hard, burying his face in Robert’s neck and shooting the hot proof of his orgasm on Robert’s stomach and chest. 

 

’’ _Jaa.._ ’’ he whines into Robert’s skin, hips grinding back down into Robert’s lap, stuttering through the orgasm that shakes him. His channel is unbelievably tight, and squeezing even tighter around the older man’s cock like vice.

 

Robert doesn’t know if it was getting the yes out of him that pushed Marco over the edge, or if it was the promise to be there, and he wants to. He wants to know what Marco wants from him, because he will deliver it. Finally he rolls them over, remaining connected as he puts Marco on his back and settles between his legs, already spreading to accommodate him easily. Robert grunts, wound up and barely restraining himself. Before Marco can get over-sensitive, Robert starts up the pace again - fast, urgent. He kisses and licks at the blond’s perfect jawline, groaning as he gets so, so close. ’’I’m gonna-..’’ I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum inside you, he wants to say, wants to hear Marco whine and moan at the knowledge that he’s going to be flooded nicely with Robert’s jizz. But the words are stuck in Robert’s throat - and the boy’s moaning in his ear already anyway, and as Robert’s orgasm overwhelms him, all he can let out is a prolonged groan. His hips snap rapidly between Marco’s legs as he fills the blond up, shooting so much cum he feels deliciously drained with it. 

 

A handful more thrusts and Robert collapses on top of Marco, the younger’s arms coming around his back in an embrace that Robert melts readily into. They’re breathing heavily into each other, and Robert worries vaguely about crushing Marco, but neither of them make a move to separate. They regain their composure slowly. Robert feels Marco nuzzle at his hair and smiles at this sweet side of the younger man, the lovely show of affection. He turns his face into Marco’s cheek, returning the favor, planting a few lazy kisses there. Marco tangles their legs together at this, soft and warm, agreeable against Robert. Robert doesn't mean to let himself be lulled to sleep by this, but he is - covering Marco just like he’d wanted to and sleeping peacefully with it. 

 

 

  


End file.
